When Our Storm Comes

This poem sits over my desk; I see it everyday. But I don't always read it. Today, New Year's Day, I read it anew, with fresh eyes--and promise myself to  pay attention, to pay heed, to witness, to be present, and to allow whatever is meant to happen to happen this year. May my storm unleash that which is creative, spiritual, and surprising. I'm ready.

Lilacs In September
by Katha Pollitt

Shocked to the root
like the lilac bush
in the vacant lot
by the hurricane--

whose back branch split
by wind or rain
has broken out

into these scant ash-
colored blossoms
lifted high
as if to say

to passersby
What will unleash
itself in you
when your storm comes?